


Say Something

by Veeebles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veeebles/pseuds/Veeebles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hands cupped her face, forcing those cold, dead eyes to look at him. There was not a single spark of recognition in them. She was so different; her hair was dark. Her skin was much paler and her bones more prominent beneath. She breathed slowly through dry, cracked lips and her face was blank. She looked at him, but she didn't know him. Not any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sandor

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Say Something" by A Great Big World

"Sansa"

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

His hands cupped her face, forcing those cold, dead eyes to look at him. There was not a single spark of recognition in them. If he didn't know any better, he could believe it wasn't her. She was so different; her hair was dark, it hung around her shoulders lifeless and thin.

Her skin was much paler and her bones more prominent beneath. She breathed slowly through dry, cracked lips and her face was blank. She looked at him, but she didn't know him. Not anymore.

_I'll be the one, if you want me to._

He cursed himself to the seven hells that he hadn't come for her sooner. Who knows how long she had been locked here, deep in the cells of the Vale, shivering and starving.

Baelish had mocked him when he demanded to know where she was. Stories had circulated about the lord protector of the Vale, that his bastard born daughter was really the Lady Sansa Stark, smuggled out of the capitol.

Sandor had not believed it at first, Brienne had been of more faith.

_Anywhere I would've followed you._

He should have taken her away that night.

When the Blackwater was on fire, green flames lighting the sky, he went to her. He had held a knife to her throat and made her sing to him.

She had been so terrified, so small, so tender. He had been ashamed of himself for treating her like all those she feard - all those he a tried to protect her from.

He had left without her - why would she come with him? She had no reason to trust him, no affection. He had cringed after, thinking how stupid and pathetic he had been.

He should have taken her, dragged her kicking and screaming through the city if he had to.

If he had, she wouldn't be here now - he would have taken her home.

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

Still she sat there. Her silence was the worst part. She didnt scream, didn't cry, did nothing. She just looked at him with those dead eyes.

He would laugh, had the situation been different, he would have teased her that finally she could look into his eyes.

What had happened to her?

_And I am feeling so small._

He felt useless.

He called her by her name. Still she said nothing.

He shook her shoulders, gritting his teeth at the feel of her bones so prominent.

His anger grew and Brienne warned him to be careful.

_It was over my head_

He wanted to scream at her.

He wanted to strike her.

He wanted to kiss her, hold her, make her forget everything.

He wanted to do something, anything that would help.

_I know nothing at all._

He slumped, defeated. His arms fell to his side, knuckles brushing against the cold, stone floor.

He remained kneeling infront of her, Brienne behind him.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and he couldn't look at her eyes anymore. He studied her hands instead; small, pale, clasped in her lap neatly.

He smiled, despite himself.

"sitting like a proper lady...even now..."

He blinked away his tears.

_And I will stumble and fall._

Why did he think he could have saved her? Him? The Hound?

He couldn't save his sister from Gregor.

And now, he couldn't save Sansa.

_I'm still learning to love_

"Do you remember me, little bird?"

A finger twitched but other than that she remained still.

"Do you remember the Hound?"

He was't sure what he was doing, the words were tumbling out of their own accord.

He spoke of the first time he saw her in Winterfell. He told her how he thought her father was a fool, but the best fool a man could be. He was honourable and trusting and believed in what was fair and right. He told her that when he rode into Winterfell and laid eyes on her, the rage inside him dulled. His eyes had followed her; the girl with blazing hair, blue eyes and a direwolf by her side.

He told her of her first day in court, she had wore a blue dress that day, her hair pinned back from her face.

He told her of the rage inside him when Joffrey had her beat. How much he hated the golden haired prince. How he had wanted to kill him and steal her, unable to believe the God's cruelty that she should belong to such a monster.

He told her of the time he wiped blood from her lip, covered her with his cloak, caught her from falling down the serpentine, saved her from the mobs, from the men who wanted to ruin her.

_Just starting to crawl._

His voice caught and he couldn't speak anymore.

He wanted to tell her so much, but he couldn't.

He could hear Brienne crying softly behind him, he forced himself to ignore her, forcing himself to tell Sansa what he needed her to hear.

It was difficult, he was the Hound, fiercest warrior in all of Westeros.

He showed no weakness, he was loyal to his master and did not question orders. He killed for joy and was not afraid to die. Was not afraid to spit at the Gods and mock their ways.

_And I will swallow my pride._

"You made me better, little bird."

The cell was so quiet beside his rasping voice echoing in the dark.

"You gave me a reason to fight. You made me believe an old, scarred dog like me could find some happiness."

He frowned and had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching for her hands, to hold her.

"I envied you for your fantasies. You lived with the hope that you would have a prince sweep you away. My dreams were destroyed when i got my scars. Do you remember when i told you that story? I had wanted you to understand me. I couldn't bear the though of you looking at me and seeing the monster everyone else saw."

Her hands were shaking slightly.

"i wanted to protect you, to shield you from feeling any pain."

_You're the one that I love_

His eyes found hers again, he almost believed he could see life in them.

"I loved you, little bird."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his scars and through his hair, "Gods be damned you're the only thing i've ever loved."

_And I'm saying goodbye._

He couldnt stay anymore. He wasn't the one she needed, that much was clear to him.

He sat back, moving to stand.

Small hands, so weak clung to him.

He looked down at her alarmed and those fingers clawed at his armour and chainmail, finally clutching to the collar of his tunic.

She looked up at him, tears streaking her cheeks.

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

"You won't hurt me."

_And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

"No, little bird, i won't hurt you."

_And anywhere I would've followed you._

She sobbed, burrying her face into his neck, arms wrapped around his neck.

He held her to him, running his hands down her back, holding her so close that there was not a breath of air between them.

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

"Gods, Little bird, i thought i lost you."

_Say something_

"I knew you would come for me, Sandor."


	2. Sansa

"Sansa"

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

Why was that name familiar?

A pair of large hands cupped her cheeks. They were warm, rough and smelled of leather. She looked up to see the face that had haunted her for years.

No, no it isn't you, she wimpered, you are dead, and i'm alone.

The pain in her chest was constant and heightened when his thumbs caressed her cheeks carefully. He was looking at her with frightened, grey eyes and Alayne couldn't look away.

_I'll be the one, if you want me to._

He looked the same, he sounded the same. Her imagination was much better than she thought.

Alayane continued to look at him, Why couldn't you have come for me?

There was a woman standing in the doorway to her cell behind him, a huge woman of muscle and strength. But Alayne's eyes couldn't leave those grey depths. There was something so real about him, about his touch, his smell, his voice.

_Anywhere I would've followed you._

Green flames. Screaming men. Desperate prayers.

A rough voice. A blade beneath her throat. A Song. The touch of scars beneath her palm. A kiss. Tears.

The smell of blood and dirt as she wrapped herself in a dirty, white cloak.

The feeling of loneliness, dread, misery.

She remembered him walking out the door, leaving her while the city burned. The memory was so vivid, she could almost believe she had been there. But it was the dreams of the girl wih red hair, she was sure.

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

His eyes were intense.

She sat very still; all her energy spent. The pain was still with her.

She watched his eyes as they wandered over her, his lips moved but she didn't hear his words.

_And I am feeling so small._

He called the girl's name, repeating it over and over while he shook Alayne's shoulders.

He was strangely gentle in his strength, his hands moving from her cheeks to her shoulders, to her head, back to her cheeks.

His eyes were watery and she wondered why she would imagine such greif in him.

She wanted to tell him he had it wrong - she wasn't that girl, she was Alayne Stone, bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish.

The girl he looked for was long gone.

_It was over my head_

She watched him grit his teeth and his grip tightened on her.

His eyes were searching her face, as if desperately looking for something.

Alayne just couldn't stop watching him. Never had her fantasies been so real. Perhaps she was dying. She had heard tales that before death, many people saw their life before their eyes. But she instead saw Sandor; the dream she had been clinging to for so long, back in the darkest corners of Alayne's mind.

You aren't real.

_I know nothing at all._

He let her go, he slumped where he sat and dropped his gaze.

He swallowed hard and Alayne became aware of the lump in her throat.

He smiled and she wondered why.

"sitting like a proper lady...even now..."

She felt it in the back of her mind; something stirring, like an itch she couldn't scratch, like waking from a dream she couldn't fully remember.

She felt her fingers twitch, but she remained still.

_And I will stumble and fall._

He was breathing hard, she noticed the tears falling from his face and she couldn't understand why.

Why would she conjure up this fantasy? If she was dying, why were her hallucinations so sad? Surely she would want to live in the happy fantasies she had of him holding her. Of his mouth kissing her, his voice in her ear.

Or the dream of the little girl with auburn hair and gray eyes, running towards her shouting "mama!" and the boy on Sandor's strong shoulders, laughing, his dark curls shining in the sun.

Everything was a dream, Alayne reminded herself. You are not who he thinks you are, and those are not memories or dreams of your own. They belonged to the Stark girl, and she is dead.

_I'm still learning to love_

"Do you remember me, little bird?"

Again, she felt something stir in the back of her mind. There was something so real about him, his voice -that name.

"Do you remember the Hound?"

Alayne listened to him speak. His voice was quiet and broken, but it told a story so familiar to her.

It was like watching a story unfold, everything he said was so real, she pictured it all in her mind and trembled at how real it all was.

He told her about the Stark girl. He told her how she was loved by him, that his every waking thought was of her. He told her about her pain, her grief, her joy, her laugh.

He spoke with such warmth, Alayne found herself envying the Stark girl.

she is not me. She is dead.

_Just starting to crawl._

Suddenly, his voice broke and he was silent.

The woman was crying softly behind him.

Alayne watched a tear roll down his cheek, fighting the urge to kiss it away.

She wanted to scream at him to leave. She wanted him to understand that he was wrong - the Stark girl was gone, dead. She never existed.

I am Alayne Stone. I am Alayne Stone. Bastard daughter of Lord Baelish. Alayne Stone. Alayne Stone. AlayneStoneAlayneStoneAlayneStone...

_And I will swallow my pride._

"You made me better, little bird."

He broke her from her racing thoughts and she felt cold, like her blood had suddenly turned to snow in her veins.

"You gave me a reason to fight. You made me believe an old, scarred dog like me could find some happiness."

This was strange. This was different from her usual fantasies, memories - not her's, Sansa's. Who was dead. Who never existed.

Alayne Stone. Alayne Stone. Alayne Stone...

"I envied you for your fantasies. You lived with the hope that you would have a prince sweep you away. My dreams were destroyed when i got my scars. Do you remember when i told you that story? I had wanted you to understand me. I couldn't bear the though of you looking at me and seeing the monster everyone else saw."

Her hands began to shake and the lump in her throat made it hard to breathe.

"i wanted to protect you, to shield you from feeling any pain."

Please go, please. I can't take it. I am not real - she is not real!

Alayne Stone. Alayne Stone Alayne Stark.

_You're the one that I love_

She was still watching him, swallowing hard as he raised those intense eyes to her's again. Memories of those eyes lit up with fire, rage, passion hit her and she clenched her fists to stop shaking.

"I loved you, little bird."

She felt her heart stop. She stopped breathing. She forgot how to.

The sound of his rough hands scratching against the dusting of hair on his jaw reverberated through her.

"Gods be damned you're the only thing i've ever loved."

Alayne Stone. Sansa isn't real. Alayne Stone. She isn't real.

Don't say these things to me. It is too real.

_And I'm saying goodbye._

He sighed heavily and sat back on his heels, moving to stand.

No.

Alayne Stone. Alayne Stark. Alayne, Alayne, Alayne, she isn't real

She felt the cold metal beneath her nails. She scratched and clawed, desperate to hold onto something to stop him from leaving.

She tried to swallow but her throat hurt so much, tears burned her vision and she looked at that blurry face through them.

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

"You won't hurt me."

And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.

"No, little bird, i won't hurt you."

_And anywhere I would've followed you._

Alayne Stone isn't real.

She felt something break within her and a rush of emotion overcame her.

She buried her face in his neck and the smell of him, his warmth, the way his hands ran up and down her back, his tenderness. It unmade her.

She cried until her head spun, and still he held her.

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

"Gods, Little bird, i thought i lost you."

His voice was harsh, full of emotion.

_Say something_

"I knew you would come for me, Sandor."

Alayne Stone isn't real.

I am Sansa Stark.


End file.
